


Head of a Match

by afropuff



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, None - Freeform, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afropuff/pseuds/afropuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair discovers that he likes it rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Head of a Match

## Head of a Match

by afropuff

Author's website:  <http://1tuffpuff.tripod.com>

I own a few things, none of which includes The Sentinel or any of its parts.

This originally appeared in "Come to Your Senses" 24. It was my first zine story, for which I thank Mysti and Agent With Style. 

Shameless PWP fluff. Not much more than a sexy daydream. Nuttin' wrong with that

* * *

There are a number of words that instantly spring to my mind when the name Jim Ellison comes up. Most of them are endearing, some of them aren't, all of them are accurate. One such word is 'smooth', and what I'm mainly referring to here is hair. He has it, of course, just not an overabundance of it, and though some of that is by choice, most of it is by nature. Jim's just not terribly hairy. Period. And that's fine with me. Perfectly fine. If you've seen him without a shirt, you know just how fine it is. 

But there are times, every once in a while, when that ultra-smooth surface gets a little rough and I go a little crazy. I'm talking about shaving. Or, not shaving, to be more precise. I had no idea that I was the kind of man that could get turned on by beard burn, but let me tell you, on the rare occasions that Jim doesn't shave for a day or two, it's all over but the shoutin' when he gets close to me. In fact, he doesn't even have to get close to me, because as long as I can see that he hasn't shaved, I'm done for. 

Let's just talk about the face for a second. The eyes, the jaw, the smile, etcetera. The man's gorgeous, right? 'Classically handsome' and all that. He's, like, soap opera handsome, all cheekbones and white teeth. Well, pair that, if you will, with just a slight dusting of red-gold stubble. Just enough to take that clean edge off and make him a little... dirty. Debauched, maybe. Untamed, even. My very own Marlboro Man. 

I remember all the hoopla about five o' clock shadows during the whole _Miami Vice_ period when I was in high school, and I didn't think much of it as a fashion statement. I tried it a few times, even had a few girls tell me they liked it, but I normally preferred to be clean-shaven. As for other times in my life I've had facial hair, one reason or another always made me return to the razor. Sure I get lazy, but by and large, my face stays hairless. When Jim and I became lovers (a fact around which I'm still attempting to wrap my brain, five months later), it was the first time I understood what all the fuss was about. Not only did I think it looked sexy, I was introduced to the tactile side of the idea and I haven't been the same since. The first time he kissed me with it, I wanted to eat him alive. The first time I felt it stroke the inside of my thigh... well.... 

Of course, the drawback to all of this is that whenever I'm able to indulge in the pleasure of having my body rasped by Jim's face, I always end up looking like I have some skin disorder. I remember one time, Jim and I had had a major make out session when he was scruffy and I took a look in the mirror later on that same day. At first, I was panicked, then baffled, and finally so amused I nearly cried from laughing so hard. I'm not sure what I expected, but for some reason, it wasn't that. I continued to laugh as I stared and touched the abraded skin. My face and parts of my neck felt raw and tender, like I'd come across a loofah bent on revenge. Jim heard me laughing and came into the bathroom. He chuckled and leaned against the doorframe as he took a look at my face. 

"Looks like I got you pretty good, Chief," he said around a self-satisfied grin. 

Part of me wanted to be annoyed, or at least outraged, but I just found the whole thing far too humorous. "Looks like you did," I agreed. "Any idea how I'm supposed to explain this when I come to the station?" 

He pretended to ponder the question as his eyes roamed over my face. "You could tell the truth," he declared. 

"Or not," I replied. 

He snickered and took a step toward me, then lightly stroked my jaw with his tongue. "Or not," he whispered, and then walked out. 

I shut my eyes slowly and when I opened them, I looked again in the mirror and saw a smile that had its own air of self-satisfaction. 

* * *

There was another memorable occasion where Jim had some fuzz and I spent the better part of the day imagining what it was going to do to me later on, then received the joy of finding out. It was Labor Day and Jim and I had decided to keep it low key. We were just going to do a little outdoor cooking, nothing special, a couple of steaks, some grilled veggies, corn-on-the-cob, the usual suspects. Just the two of us, relaxing on the balcony, enjoying each other and watching summer come to an end. 

Jim had marinated the steaks with a nicely spiced, mildly peppery dry rub, and I'd made sangria for the occasion, in which we'd put a nice dent before the food was even on the grill. As I stood in the kitchen pouring myself another tumbler full, my stubble fantasies were turning quite colorful, and I found myself walking back to the balcony and leaning over Jim's shoulder from behind, nibbling on his ear and kissing just below it. 

"Hi," he said quietly, with a smile I could hear even if I hadn't seen it. 

I mouthed his neck and he made an appreciative sound, somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and tilted his head. I traced the shell of his ear with my nose and responded with an almost soundless, "Hi." 

His hand wound its way into my hair and I moved forward a bit to rub my cheek against his, slowly, feeling that brief shot of erotic adrenaline as the short hair on his face dragged against my skin. He turned his head just enough to bring his lips into contact with mine and we slid into a lazy, wine-laced kiss that heated up almost immediately. I traced his neck with my free hand and ran it down his shirt across his chest, just stroking him, enjoying the feel of him. I broke the kiss and nuzzled the side of his face. 

"How long before that fire is ready for food?" I asked. 

He answered without opening his eyes, "Maybe five minutes." 

"That's perfect," I replied, standing to set my glass on the table next to his chair, "'cause I only need three." 

He looked up and watched me move around him until I was kneeling between his legs, and didn't say a word as I unbuttoned his shorts, though he did look around reflexively, as if anyone outside of a helicopter could see us. He remained silent until I'd completely unzipped him, at which point he said, "I don't believe you're doing this." 

I smiled wickedly and licked him once. "Like you haven't thought about it." 

"I didn't say I hadn't thought about it," he answered, closing his eyes with a sigh as I licked him once more, slower this time. "I just don't believe you're doing it." 

"I'm full of surprises," I replied, then stopped talking altogether as I took him into my mouth. 

He hadn't put on underwear, which I was glad of, because it allowed me more access to his skin. I had his shorts open as far as they would go and between my hands and my mouth, I was thoroughly involved. Giving head is another thing I never thought I'd be into. Or, maybe it's just giving _Jim_ head. Whatever the case, it turns me on something fierce when I do it. There's always the power from giving someone else pleasure, there's no denying that, but, there's something about the literal feel of it that I love. It makes me really, _really_ happy. 

Jim's not a screamer. I mean, there have been moments, but generally, he's relatively subdued in bed. He's very intense, though - like he is about many other things - and that, I do like. I like knowing that I turn him on and that I make him feel good. He is a demonstrative and rather vocal lover, he's just not very loud about it. This trait served us well out there on the balcony, where I was bringing him off with my entire face and, though it was pulled back, my hair. 

Jim loves when I use my hair. 

At one point, when my mouth was somewhere near the crease of his left thigh, he undid my ponytail and raked at my hair until it sort of draped over him, shuddering as it slid across his skin. I glanced up at him and saw his eyes looking at me with so much heat that I had to close mine again. As I slid my lips over the warm and slick head of his penis once again, I felt something cold and wet on my cheek and realized quickly that it was his fingers. When I opened my eyes, I saw them move toward my mouth and without even really thinking about it, I opened wider and began licking and sucking cold sangria off of them, soon letting him slip from me so that it was just his fingers in my mouth. I stroked him firmly with my hand as my tongue explored, tasting an odd but strangely sexy combination of wine, peaches, garlic and hickory smoke. I practically devoured his hand, becoming impossibly hard and shaking steadily. 

"God, Jim," I whispered and moved to take in his cock one last time, feeling slippery, liquid warmth hit the roof of my mouth as I did. I slid down on him, letting him pulse and pulse into me and grasping his sticky-sweet hand in my own. His hips twitched and he whined helplessly, a low, luscious sound that made me gasp and come right then - no touching, no thrusting, no friction whatsoever, just the feel of his body and the sound of his voice. 

Power, indeed. 

* * *

We stayed out on the balcony and had dinner, which turned out to be quite delicious - the steaks were as close to perfect as I'd ever had. It made me wonder, as I always did after a cookout, why we didn't do it more often. The sun was setting, casting cool beauty over the water and giving the skyline a dramatic backlight. For dessert, we had strawberry shortcake, with the little store-bought sponge cakes, cut and glazed berries and Cool Whip. Homemade might be considered by some to be the more authentic way to make that classic dish, but it can't hold a candle to the ready-made stuff for comfort food value. We did do the strawberries, though, because that strawberry glaze stuff in the store is a little intense. 

After we finished, we sat for a while, full and nicely buzzed, lamenting the fact that we weren't on vacation and wondering how much Jerry Lewis would make this year. Stephen called and Jim talked to him while I brought our dishes and trash into the kitchen. He must have asked what we'd done for the holiday, because Jim was looking right at me when he said, "Oh, not much. We just cooked out a little bit, Blair made some really good sangria so we had some of that..." At that, he smiled and the look on his face did all sorts of things to me. He held his hand out to me, grasping it lightly as I walked to him. "Yeah, the wood chips are definitely worth it," he was saying. When I got close to him, he leaned forward and kissed me stealthily, holding the phone away from his mouth. He then made his way quickly around to my ear and whispered two of the sexiest words I'd ever heard in my life. 

"Go upstairs." 

I pulled away from him slowly, willing myself not to take the phone and smash it against the table. I fought the urge to kiss him again, but satisfied myself with a tiny bite to his shoulder, tasting more of the smoke that had permeated his cotton t-shirt. To his credit, he didn't make any sound whatsoever, he merely bit his lip and shut his eyes tightly, holding his breath for about a second before regaining enough composure to say, "No kidding, she's graduating already?" I smiled and headed for the bedroom. 

I stripped slowly, feeling heavy and intoxicated with desire and just enough alcohol to bring my reflexes down and my libido up. I wasn't drunk, not by a long shot, but I was feeling suitably lusty, all things considered. I could hear Jim wrapping up his conversation with Stephen and couldn't have been happier. I lit a few candles and got into bed, lying on my back and idly stroking my stomach, waiting for him to join me. Luckily, I didn't have long to wait. 

"Stephen says hello," he said, walking quickly up the stairs. 

"Hi, Stephen," I answered and grinned. 

He hit the top of the stairs and looked over. "Oh, you lit can-" he stopped as his eyes fell on me and he swallowed. "You lit candles. Nice." He started absently lifting his shirt. 

"Well," I began, "you have the advantage of being able to always see me. I want to see you, too. You look good in candlelight," I finished as I turned on my side to face him. 

He laughed a little shyly and undid his shorts, stepping out of them when they fell to his ankles. "Chief, everyone looks good in candlelight." 

"Maybe, but I particularly like looking at you in it. Besides," I said running my eyes over him deliberately, making sure he saw it, "I've never been a fan of fucking in the dark." We both laughed and I placed my hand flat on the bed, right in front of me. "Now get over here and finish what you started." 

He crawled in, wrapping me in his arms and looking adorably affronted. "What _I_ started? Excuse me, I wasn't the one giving public blow jobs." He kissed me soundly. "Not that I minded, of course." 

I ran my foot up his leg and kissed his eyes. "I wouldn't have had to resort to such tactics if you'd just shaved this morning." I laughed and kissed his cheek, then rubbed my own against it. 

"Hm," he said, taking that into consideration as he pulled his face across my nipple. "So, I should expect indecent exposure every time I have a five o' clock shadow?" 

"Maybe," I barely replied, my breath catching in my throat. 

"I don't know why that always surprises me," he said with a kiss to my sternum. "It really gets to you that much?" 

I took his head in my hands and kissed him slowly. "Yes, Jim, it does. I can't explain it to you, it just does. And from now on, when you don't shave, I'll know you're doing it on purpose." 

He laughed, with an exquisite scrape across my collarbone. "I love you," he said. 

"Mmmm," I responded, as if savoring something delicious. Those are words I haven't quite gotten used to hearing from him, even to this day, and they never fail to devastate me. "I love you, too, Jim," I said and kissed his ear. 

The next thing I knew, my legs were open and his head was between them, heartily returning my balcony favor. 

I don't know how many men Jim has gone down on, because I've never asked. I don't really want to know, to tell you the truth. But when he starts in on me, it makes me a little curious, 'cause he is _good_. I told you earlier that I loved giving, right? Well, receiving is right up there with the wheel as one of the best inventions known to man. So, there he was, being quite thorough, pushing all my buttons and setting them on high. Slowly, he pulled off and turned over, giving me a quick kiss before pulling me on top of him and indicating plainly that he wanted me to move up. He didn't actually _say_ 'sit on my face', but that's where he was going with it. We'd never done it that way prior to that night, so imagine my joyful surprise when I assumed the position and he went right back into the oral assault from under me. I held on to the railing above his head and just rocked slowly, humming low, murmuring things that I'm sure weren't even words. The chafing he was giving my thighs was making me shiver. I wanted to wait, I didn't want to come yet, but he was making things very difficult and they were about to get harder. So to speak. 

He slid down, getting his tongue further back and.... Wow. More uncharted territory. I'd heard about it, read about it, even seen it in a few choice films, but it was another thing we hadn't explored up to that point. I knew without a doubt, though, we'd be doing it again. Soon. 

"Whoa...oh, my _god_!" I just about jumped off of him, I was so shocked. He just chuckled and kept going, rimming me leisurely and driving me wild. "Jim, you've got... aw, man, you're killing me...." 

And as fast as that, he was gone, having slipped completely out from under me and coming up behind me just as quickly, urging me gently down until I was lying on my stomach, still rocking uncontrollably. He stroked my back and my arms, and it felt so good, I just sort of melted into it, rolling my back into his touch. I heard him opening a condom packet and I laughed a little. The idea that we'd already performed acts of rather high risk and were now about to engage in penetration using a _condom_ struck me as humorous. The fact that he and I had always been given clean bills of health was beside the point, really. Still, It made me laugh. Of course, I'm pretty sure I was delirious by that time. 

"What's so funny?" I heard Jim ask as he moved down to lie next to me. 

"Old habits die hard," I mumbled with a smile. 

He brushed his chin between my shoulder blades and pulled me toward him until I was on my side. "You want to explain that?" 

I sighed as I felt his fingers sliding slowly between us, between the cheeks of my ass, searching, rubbing me and opening me with deliberate care and preparation. "No, not at the moment," I answered. 

Then, he was there. Or, more accurately, his dick was there, making its way in nice and easy. I remembered to breathe, I was already relaxed, and I realized that although we'd only done this a few times, it was getting easier as I was wanting it more. And at that moment, there was nothing in the world I wanted more. 

There truly is no dignity involved in sex. It does not find people at their most 'human', certainly, and I can attest to the fact that things were getting pretty primal very quickly. There was a completely new language between us as Jim moved into me and nearly back out again, holding my hip steady with one powerful hand and bracing himself with the other. It became a game of balance, strength and stamina, the two of us pushing hard against each other, wrapped in such an overwhelming cocoon of sensation I felt like I was losing every ounce of control I ever had. There was this sound coming out of me, one I couldn't even begin to stop, let alone describe. I can't really describe it now, to be honest. Jim had pushed my passion beyond my own comprehension, and pushed my body enough so that I was on my stomach again, clawing and biting, making my animal spirit proud. I felt his weight lift off my back as he sat up and gripped my shoulders, straddled me and continued to move, deeper than I thought possible, riding me into oblivion. 

The sound had formed vaguely into words, a steady stream of, "Yeahyeahyeahyeah..." coming from my throat in a hoarse, sobbing moan. I cold hear Jim, his voice high and cracked, so close to the top he could taste it. I don't know how I managed to speak, but speak I did. "Jim... Jim, come... please... Jesus, just-" 

He came. 

Amazingly, so did I. 

The world went all black and swirly for what seemed like a few years, but was really actually only about a minute, and when I could see straight again, I saw Jim's arm lying limp on the pillow in front of my face. I somehow got my hand to move to it, pull it closer and press it against my lips. I felt an answering kiss on the back of my neck and I smiled. It took a while for us to stop breathing like... well, like we'd just finished having sex, but when we did, Jim moved enough so that his bristly face scratched my shoulder. Much to my surprise, a tiny jolt of interest went careering through my body, causing every muscle to involuntarily clench. I felt him smile and he gave me a squeeze. 

"Wow, it _does_ work." 

"I hate you," I laughed. 

He laughed, too. "But I love you, Chief!" he said mischievously. 

I shook my head. "As soon as I can move, you are so dead." 

"Promises, promises," he growled. 

I let him live. 

* * *

End Head of a Match by afropuff: placespleez@yahoo.com

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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